


The Winds of Winter

by guilty_heroes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book!Jon, Canon-Typical Violence, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Dragons, Gen, Jon Snow Knows Something, Magic, Politics, R Plus L Equals J | Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen are Jon Snow's Parents, Some Shit Won’t Make Sense, The Others - Freeform, This Shit Will Make Sense, Valyria, no anti-, no pro-, s6 rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-24 08:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30069474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guilty_heroes/pseuds/guilty_heroes
Summary: The White Wolf is dead. The She-Wolf is No One. The Dragon Queen is gone. Meereen is in chaos. The Lion tangles with the Rose. The Sparrows run amok. The Flayed Man waits.A Rewrite of the Show, Season 6 onward, that takes from the books.“‘No man dies with dignity, it seems,’ Edd muttered. As if he was seconding it, Ghost let out a bone-chilling, stomach-curling howl. Davos knew animals could feel loss, had seen it in a dog he had befriended as a boy. But this, this was something else entirely.”
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	1. Davos I (pilot)

**Author's Note:**

> Every day I grow older, every date I hate _Game of Thrones_ a little bit more.  
> I started rewatching the show again with my family, mostly to show them Lindsay Ellis’ criticisms of the later seasons once we get through the horrors of Seasons 7 and 8.  
> But as I’m sitting there, rewatching the best seasons (1-4), I realize how bad Season 6 also is. Like it’s not half as bad as Seasons 7 or 8, but it’s bad. I mean Jon turns total stupid, Sansa turns total bitch, Davos is just there for some reason, Daenerys just poofs into being a bad bitch AND GETS A DOTHRAKI HORDE TO INVADE WESTEROS, Tyrion is stupid, Varys is useless, Cersei nukes King’s Landing, the Tyrells poof out of existence, Dorne is a shitshow, and Euron just... exists. All of the problems with S7&8 can be traced back to the shit setup of Season 6. Don’t get me wrong, I love the way it ended – Cersei on the Throne, Jon as KitN, Dany getting her dragons to heel. I do hate that the Tyrells just went poof, that Doran Martell just... sits there?  
> Also the tactics of Season 6 are shit. They’re just shit. Not as bad as Seasons 7 and 8, but pretty fucking shit.  
> I’ve always felt that if you’re going to rewrite Season 8, you can’t just rewrite Season 8. Or even Season 7. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some S7 and 8 rewrites, but they are being written on poor foundations.  
> I’ve read one or two Season 6 rewrites, yet they seem to follow the Season 6 plotline but written better. Which is nice, don’t get me wrong, I just don’t like the Season 6 plotline. The problem is that I do like where the big 3 characters end up at by the end of season 6. And that’s a place of power, arguably when they are most powerful. Which is an issue. Game of Thrones doesn’t work by leaving you on a high note, and by dragging my characters to where they are most powerful, not only do I ensure that they can’t be any stronger, I also feel like I’m Mary Sueing them to an extent.  
> Which is why I am now deciding, and I probably won’t finish so don’t sue me, to rewrite the plot of Season 6 too. You’ll find similar endings, of course, to the OG, but they won’t feel the same, hopefully.  
> Finally, before I start, I am going to be taking more from the books without having read them. Which is common practice in our fandom, I know, but just warning you all. Some characterizations might be modified a bit, though I am mostly just stealing characters, some plot threads, and magic elements. Game of Thrones felt MASSIVE and, yes, a bit bloated from S3-5. But there’s a reason those were some of the best seasons, when there were so many pieces moving, your heart was racing, and nothing was assured.  
> Hopefully I can catch some of that magic here.  
> Enjoy.

The wolf had never howled like this before. He had been going on for the past quarter-hour, howling and whimpering at the moon or some other fancy. An odd outburst, for Ser Davos hadn’t heard the wolf howl much before tonight. In fact, thinking about it, Ser Davos wasn’t sure he had ever heard the wolf do anything more than pant. 

Which meant, in his learned opinion, something was wrong. With a decent amount of prescience, Davos grabbed his sword and barged out the room, headlong into the icy air around Castle Black. The King’s Tower was far enough of a walk from the Lord Commander’s office that he probably should have taken a cloak with him. Davos was starting to get used to the cold, but only starting. He still shivered, ice shooting up his veins with ever cold wind. 

Davos made his way to Jon Snow’s office. Yet, once he got to the door, he paused. If the Lord Commander’s wolf was acting up, why would Ser Davos be the first to notice? Or was it that the wolf noticed something first?

Davos unsheathed his blade and knocked. “Lord Commander?”

The heavy wooden door cracked open. Eddison Tollett’s head poked through. “What’s it to you?”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Tollett only glared. “How would you know?”

“The wolf, your reactions.” When the brother refused to lessen his glare, Davos sighed. “I know you don’t have much reason to trust me.”

“I don’t.”

“But I’m not here to betray you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I-” why  _ was  _ he here? With Stannis dead, and even though it seemed like there was no other alternative than being at Castle Black, Davos could easily have stayed out of this. He could walk away right now, not get involved between whoever had killed the Lord Commander and whoever was still loyal to him. 

It wouldn’t be the right thing to do, however. And Davos liked to think of himself as a man who did the right thing. “I’m here,” Davos replied, straightening himself, “because Jon Snow was a good man.”

“Aye, he was.” Tollett opened the door all the way. Davos didn’t remember the names of the four other boys sitting in the room, but he did recognize the body of the boy – because he was just that, they all were boys – lying on his back on the table. “Wait here, I’ll fetch Ghost,” he heard Tollett say as the room shut behind him. 

Davos approached the dead body as if it were Stannis himself. Given the way the boy and the man had acted since Davos had come North, it might have been. Jon Snow had slowly been taking on the duty-bound, get-your-hands-dirty attitude Davos had always admired in Stannis. He supposed that was another reason why he was here. Stannis himself had liked Jon Snow, had offered to make him his Warden of the North. In some small, weird way, Jon Snow had been given Stannis’ stamp of approval. An heir, Davos might say, not in name but in manner.

Now the boy and the man were both gone. Stannis to some frozen battlefield outside of Winterfell, Jon Snow to the frozen confines of Castle Black, on the table in front of Davos. He was laid out on the table. His black tunic was stained with blood so red it looked black, but in the right hint of the firelight, it was a strong crimson. The Lord Commander’s pale face looked almost gaunt, which, well, he was dead. But the gaunt look wasn’t from death. “He was betrayed,” Davos muttered, turning away from the closed eyes. 

“Of course he was betrayed, old man. His own brothers killed him,” one of the Night’s Watchmen spat. Davos didn’t take it personally. He knew grief well enough to not.

“No, I mean the look on his face.”

The four other members of the room peered over the dead body. “You’re right,” a ginger murmured. “He looks shocked.”

“Do you know who did this?”

The tall, lanky one who had spat at Davos nodded. “My money’s on Thorne.”

“Dumb bastard,” the ginger snarled. “Does he have no clue what’s coming for him?”

“He weren’t  _ at _ Hardhome,” a boy sitting in the corner said. “None of them officers were. They dudn’t  _ know _ .”

Davos didn’t  _ know _ either, but he had heard and he had listened. Some men make up tall tales. Five-thousand wildlings and fifty Night’s Watchmen all saying the same thing didn’t. Something evil was waiting for them on the other side of the Wall. Thorne was too blinded by his hatred to see.

Outside, steel began to sing as the wolf stopped howling. The room fell silent to listen. A sickening snarl ended the quick song. 

“That’ll be Edd and the wolf,” the lanky one snorted. “Hope it was Thorne.”

Davos doubted it was, but said nothing. The door opened with an “it’s Edd.” The brother walked in, red blood on his sword. Davos wanted to ask whose blood was on his blade and why it was spilled, but he was cut off by Tollett. “I got the wolf.” 

Indeed he had. Ghost slinked in, making not a sound, a terrifying, bloody snarl on his face. The wolf was almost up to Davos’ chest and the blood dripping from his fangs did little to make him feel cute and cuddly. The wolf, quiet as his namesake, padded over to his companion. He sniffed at his feet, sniffed up his leg, sniffed up to his head. It was only then that Davos finally smelled that terrible, familiar scent of death. Shit and piss. 

“No man dies with dignity, it seems,” Tollett muttered. As if he was seconding it, Ghost let out a bone-chilling, stomach-curling howl. Davos knew animals could feel loss, had seen it in a dog he had befriended as a boy. But this, this was something else entirely. The howl mixed with whimpers and growls, a whine and a snarl, taking all of the beast’s emotions of grief and pouring it into one truly awesome, sad sound. 

When it finally, thankfully stopped, Davos felt tears in his eyes. The animal in front of him was a killer, a predator unmatched in the world, but Davos sympathized with it. He knew the pain of losing someone so close to you you had been unable to imagine life without him. 

The wolf turned to the door and barked. The first time Davos had heard the creature do such a mundane, dog-like thing. Davos picked up his blade, the rest of the room doing the same, and came to face the five Night’s Watchmen who were standing in the doorway. 

“The Lord Commander!” They looked like they wanted to rush into the room, but Ghost was keeping them at bay. The wolf stared down the five men, daring them to move. He scanned them, trying to find any danger. Eventually, he seemed to accept them and stepped back. With a second glance at each other, the men entered. Davos stepped past them to look out onto the yard of Castle Black. There, below him, were two red stains on the white snow. One was just that, a red stain, the body behind Davos now. The other was new, presumably the man Ghost and Edd had just killed. 

“We’ll kill him, I swear it. Let’s go. Anyone who fails to pledge sufficient loyalty to Jon is going to die. And then we’ll sic Ghost on Thorne. See how the mean fucker likes that.”

Eddison stormed to the door, sword in hand, eyes blazing with a fury that Stannis had never had. Davos admired the man for his loyalty. If he was being honest, and Davos liked to think of himself as an honest man, he saw himself in Edd. A loyal friend, an advisor, a man with no one to serve any more. But Davos stepped in front of the door. He would not let Tollett make this mistake.

“What are you doing old man?”

“How many men do you have?” 

Edd rolled his eyes, but obliged. “Ten. Maybe a dozen more outside the walls.”

“And how many men are at Castle Black?”

“A little less than a hundred.”

“You’re rushing to your deaths.”

Edd stepped forward and held his sword out. “Aye, we are. Are you going to stop us?”

“I’m going to stop you from dying, yes.” Davos didn’t fear this man, he didn’t need to fear grief any more. He was getting too used to it.

“If you’re so afraid of death, old man, I suggest you leave this room. Thorne killed my Lord Commander. He  _ butchered _ my friend.”

“And Thorne has to die.” Davos stepped forward against the blade. “But you don’t. You have far more than a hundred men in the Gift. Men who owe their  _ lives  _ to Jon Snow.”

For the first time tonight – mayhaps for the first time since Davos had known him – Eddison Tollet smiled. It was a cruel smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Aye. You’re right. Tormund’ll have Thorne’s head for this.”

Davos nodded at the brother. “As for the rest of you,” he began, looking over the ten boys and the wolf and the dead body, “let’s take the Lord Commander’s body up to the King’s Tower. There’s no escape, but if Eddison can be back in an hour, we won’t need to.”

“He’s right,” the lanky one said. “Myke, Dantis, grab some bows and arrows. Meet us up there. The rest of you, let’s go.” 

The ginger and the corner one left to their duty, the other seven helped pick up the Lord Commander. Davos grabbed the Lord Commander’s Valyrian Steel sword,  _ Longclaw _ . The black, beady eyes of the wolf on the pommel stared up at him, begging to be fed blood. Ser Davos stared away, not quite sure how a carved sword handle managed to appear so bloodthirsty. 

Outside of the Lord Commander’s office, Davos stared at something else. The Lady Melisandre, seated in Stannis’ room at the top of the King’s Tower, stared down at the yard, not an emotion betrayed on her face, the fire flickering behind her. As if he could feel her next move, Davos tore his eyes away from the witch and followed the black brothers. 

  
  



	2. Edd I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For every positive relationship that grew between the Free Folk and the Watch, it seemed two negative ones remained.

Eddison Tollett didn’t believe in many gods. As a matter of utter certainty, he believed in two gods. The god of shit and the god of death. It was the only rational belief, Edd maintained. Men do two things with certainty – they shit and they die. Most men shit themselves when they die and there had been men who died while shitting themselves. It was, all around, a virtuous and pious cycle. 

His gods had convinced him that there was really nothing to do about Jon. Nothing could bring him back, nothing could save him, nothing could rectify the mistakes of the past. Jon had shit himself. Jon had died. Now, there was one path remaining. Go out the same way. 

Oh yes, he had told the old Onion Knight he would get Tormund. And so he would. The big fucker would love to kill someone for killing Jon, Edd knew this. But beyond that, Edd had no real plans to live past today. If they won the day, great. Edd just wasn’t going to win with them. 

The road East of Castle Black was shoddy, poorly maintained, and frozen. Like Castle Black itself. The whole fucking North was frozen, really, a shithole of a land. But, if his gods had chosen this land to be a shithole, Edd couldn’t argue. He could complain, of course, he was  _ Dolorous  _ Edd for a reason. But Edd wouldn’t argue with their verdict. Even his horse was shit, one of the few living horses at Castle Black, barely able to go faster than a trot. Had Stannis really taken all of the good knights with him to die? Bloody fucker. 

Davos had said an hour, he could hold out for an hour. Edd wasn’t sure how much he could trust the man and therefore had agreed with him. Edd would be back within the hour, with as many wildlings as he could muster. Problem was, the Wildling encampment was a few miles away, probably a league. Took him a quarter of an hour to get to the encampment, would take them probably twice or more that number of minutes to get back. 

And they needed to get back  _ now _ .

Edd didn’t even dismount his horse as he strode into the encampment. “TORMUND!”

The Wildlings tore into a frenzy once he entered, galloping on his half-dead horse, driving through anything in his way to get to where he knew the big Wildling was living. 

“TORMUND!”

The giant of a man burst open his tent, wearing no top and his pants even looked hastily assembled on his frame. 

“Tollett! What the fuck?!”

“They killed him, Tormund, they killed him!”

“Who?”

“Thorne, whoever the fuck helped him. Probably the officers.”

The giant giantslayer stares at him like he can’t believe what Edd is saying. He does, Edd knows this, but Jon was achieving a status among the Free Folk that not even Mance had achieved after Hardhome. To have him stripped away from them too must be almost too much to bear.

“UP!” Tormund roars after regaining a grip. “THE FUCKING CROWS KILLED JON SNOW! THEY WANT TO KILL YOU TOO AND RAPE OUR WOMEN!”

Despite the situation, Edd couldn’t help but laugh. The relationship between the Black Brothers and the Free Folk was tense at best, downright murderous at best. Between individual Black Brothers and Free Folk, however, there were a few positive relationships brewing. 

The Free Folk streamed out of their tents, clutching their weapons and cloaks over their half-nude bodies. Though it was getting colder and colder below the Wall, Edd knew it didn’t come close to the cold of the True North. The Free Folk were cold in their bones. Edd thought he saw one or two full nude Free Folk walk out of their tent, holding walrus pelts, which meant they were Men of the Frozen Shore, men who Edd had seen swim from the shore of Hardhome to the Night’s Watch fleet waiting for them and survive. Well, some of them at least. 

“The fuck does it mean to us?” 

Edd turned to watch the big hulking warrior approach. The scars running down his head signified he was a Thenn as much as the brutish looking axe he was carrying. A gift from Jon, if Edd remembered correctly, for killing Sigorn’s father. Was it his father’s axe? Edd couldn’t remember, didn’t much care. It was a gift, however, and Edd knew the Free Folk better than to spit on hosts as courteous as Jon. 

“Do you forget who gave you that axe?” Edd growled back. 

Sigorn scowled in return. “Should been my father that gave me this axe.”

Edd couldn’t say anything in return, he could only glare at the Thenn. For every positive relationship that grew between the Free Folk and the Watch, it seemed two negative ones remained.

“But,” Sigorn continued and turned to the assembling Thenns and other Free Folk. “My father was weak. Got killed by a pretty little crow. Mance Rayder was weak, got himself killed by a spindly Southron King. I thought Jon Snow was strong. After all, Jon Snow killed my father. Killed a White Walker too, yeh?” Sigorn dragged the blade of his axe across the ground as he spun to face Edd. “If he was so strong, how’d he die to a few crows?”

“Is getting stabbed in the back considered weak nowadays?”

“They stabbed him in the back?” 

“Metaphorically speaking.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Dim Dalba, one of the Hornfoot chiefs, asked. 

“It means they betrayed him. Don’t know how, don’t know why. But when I found his body he was unarmed, covered with knife wounds.” Edd looked to Tormund. If he was heading down a wrong path here, he needed to know so he could go home and die with his brothers instead of here. The giantsbane simply nodded. “He had left his sword in his office. A bit of an idiot, aye,” there were some chuckles in the crowd, “but not a weak idiot. If Jon knew he’d be in danger, he’d have brought that sword and would be standing here today, not me.”

Sigorn ran his hands up and down the shaft of his father’s axe. “Still don’t answer my question – what’s it mean to us?”

“If these betrayers have enough of the Crows on their side, they have our hostages,” a Walrus leader shouted. One of the ones who had “willingly” given up a hostage to Jon Snow. “They’ll kill them if we make a move.”

“They killed Jon Snow because he let us through.” Tormund stepped next to Edd’s horse and stared down Sigorn. 

“We’ve been through for over a month now,” the Walrus claimed. “Why kill him now?”

“Because that Southron King, Stannis, is dead.” There were some muted cheers at Edd’s announcement. He didn’t think any of the Free Folk held any love for Stannis after the Mance execution. “Even with the killing of Mance, Stannis liked Jon Snow enough. He wouldn’t let Thorne kill him. With Stannis dead, there was no protection left for Jon.”

“As I was saying,” Tormund growled at the Walrus woman, “they killed Jon Snow because he let us through. You think they want us here? They’ll use our hostages to force us back out the wall, or worse, to lure us into a trap. The people who killed Jon Snow want us dead too.”

Sigorn stepped forward, pressed up against Tormund, but stared straight at Edd. If Edd hadn’t seen what he’d seen Beyond-the-Wall, he’d be quaking in his boots. But Edd had seen what he’d seen, and Thenns couldn’t scare him that much any more. “I’m asking the crow, one last time, what’s it mean to us?”

“It means the crows who killed Jon Snow will try to kill you, let you die, or force you Beyond-the-Wall again. It means that if you come with me, kill those who killed Jon Snow, the man who brought you Behind-the-Wall, I can get you your hostages back. We kill those who killed Jon Snow, and your stay here becomes far safer.”

Edd scanned the party. Near two-thousand fighting Wildings, and a giant, had been assembled here, waiting for Jon to send them to castles along the Wall. A third had come from Hardhome, and the disaster that was, while the majority of the rest had been let Behind-the-Wall by Jon, after being saved by Tormund. They all owed their life to Jon Snow, Edd knew that, and they knew that. Maybe most of them weren’t willing to die for him the way they would have died for Mance, but they would happily kill for him.

“What do you say?” Sigorn asked, spinning to the assembled warriors. “One last time, shall we kill some Crow?”

The ensuing battle was over after that. Edd didn’t know quite how many were supporting Thorne, but however many there were, they couldn’t hold out against a giant, much less a giant and two-hundred Thenns. Tormund and the Giant – Wun Wun – headed to the main gate-that-wasn’t-a-gate. Edd had told them to distract the traitors, even though Wun Wun probably could break through with a flick of his finger. Sigorn and the Walrus Woman – Jorra, Edd thinks her name is – came with him through a back door used by brothers to sneak out to Mole’s Town. Luckily for them, it led to the tunnels below the Lance, where the hostages are being kept. 

With the hostages secured – in the midst of the fighting and chaos it seemed Thorne had forgotten his original goal – the Thenns and Walrus clansmen stormed the training yard. It was a brutal showcase of how good Free Folk were at killing people. Some twenty or so officers were at the base of the King’s Tower, holding shields above their head, trying to breach the door. Another dozen were trying to pick off the archers holed up in the windows of the King’s Tower. 

The sight of the siege relieved Edd. It wasn’t that he hated the Onion Knight, but the man was Stannis’ man and something was wrong with Stannis. It felt good to know the Hand was more honorable than the King he had served. 

And really, Thorne could only muster thirty men against Jon? There were two-hundred at Castle Black. Edd didn’t know how many were stuck in the King’s Tower, he would guess about the same number as when he had left. So five and forty men fighting over Castle Black. Where were the other hundred-and-fifty? 

“Fucking cowards,” Edd growled as he hit a brother other the head with the pommel of his blade. He didn’t mind that Sigorn was burying his axe into some officer’s head, he didn’t much care that the Walrus Woman had smashed another officer’s chest into the ground using her walrus-tusk morning star, and he could give less shits about the way Tormund was carving through the archers atop the gate-that-wasn’t-a-gate. But he didn’t want to kill a brother in combat. They’d hang for their treachery, aye, and maybe Edd would be the one to release the gallows, but he didn’t want to kill a brother in combat. 

“They didn’t fight well, no,” Sigorn laughed, cleaning off his blade on a dead brother’s back. 

“I meant the other hundred-and-fifty brothers cowering in their barracks right now.” 

The Thenns and Walrus Clansmen were looking decided put out by the short battle. Sigorn had gotten most of the kills so the new Magnar wasn’t part of that group. “As much as I like killing Crows, probably for the best they didn’t fight. Too many dead men isn’t a good thing these days.”

“Never thought I’d hear a Thenn say that,” Jorra the Walrus Woman chuckled, sitting atop a dead brother. 

“Well, the world is ending.” 

The door to the King’s Tower opened. Dougas walked out first, all of his height and lank meant he had to duck a bit. “Took you long enough.”

“Caught them all sleeping and half-undressed,” Edd shrugged, coming in to give his brother a hug. “They complained about not breaking their fast first.”

“Careful, Crow,” Sigorn growled. “Without us, your friends in that tower wouldn’t have survived.” The Thenn looked around at the dead bodies of crows. Only two of them had Watch arrows in fatal places. “Not with aim like that. How we ever failed to take the Wall is beyond me.”

“You tried to take a 700-foot Wall of Ice. That’s how you failed,” Edd shot back. With brothers, Edd could snort and make a few jokes about the misery of life and he’d be best friends with those men for years. But with Free Folk, it was all about strength. Or at least Thenns. Strength in combat, strength of will, strength of words. Sigorn wouldn’t respect Edd if he couldn’t hold his own. 

“Guess you’re right.” A mumbling of shouts and cracks of bone turned their attention over at a few Thenns dragging Thorne and Bowen Marsh and Olly towards them. 

“You fucking traitor!” Thorne snarled and spit at the ground under Edd’s feet. “For eight-thousand years we held the Wall against –”

Edd shut the imperious man up with a fist to the nose. As Thorne recoiled, the yard erupted in cheers from Free Folk and Black Brothers alike. Looking out over them, Edd saw the rest of the Castle slowly emerging from their barracks and holding their weapons tight to their chest. He saw no anger in them, no sign that they were about to attack the Free Folk. These were new recruits, green boys who hadn’t been Beyond-the-Wall, had only heard stories of what lay beyond. They might not have believed everything about the Others, but they knew that Thorne was in the wrong. Just too craven to do anything about it. 

“You really think the Wall was keeping the Free Folk out?” Thorne was gone, Edd saw it in his eyes. So was Olly. Both of them looked at him like  _ he _ was the fucking Night King. Sam had told him about Thorne’s threat, that even once Sam and Jon took their oaths they’d be boys still. But Sam and Jon had killed White Walkers, had stared the True Enemy in the face. In reality, it was Thorne who was the boy, and Jon Snow the man. 

“Take em to the ice cells. Dougas, you mind showing our guests where to bring these traitors.”

Dougas smiled at the Thenn men who were carting the three officers around. “Not at all. Care for a tour?”

As they walked away, Ser Davos walked out of the tower and the Free Folk drew their weapons.  _ Fuck me _ , Edd thought. Not even a moment of respite. 

“You’re that Southron king’s man!” Sigorn took a step towards Davos. Edd thought he might be too late, but he shouted at Sigorn to stop anyways.

“He’s on our side, Thenn, not Stannis’.”

The Thenn didn’t stop, not that he was surprised, though he did cease pulling out his weapon, and instead stopped right in front of the Onion Knight and straightened to a full head above the half-handed man. “But he  _ was _ at Stannis’ side when they burnt Mance.”

“Only out of duty. I counseled the King against it. I tried to stop him.” That he found only the slightest hint of panic in Davos’ voice made Edd respect him just a bit more. Not too many men could stand up to a Thenn without shitting themselves. 

“Some shit counselor you were then.”

“The King refused to listen to me.”

“And in the end it didn’t matter.” The voice and sight of the Red Woman, gliding through the door, made Edd’s stomach curl up. She was a truly freakish woman. Oh yeh, she was pretty, but Edd didn’t care much for her looks when all she made him want to do was throw himself on his own fucking pyre. “Mance did not burn, and Stannis is dead. Perhaps if Mance had burnt, Stannis would still live. Perhaps Jon Snow would live.”

“If Jon Snow was alive by blood magic, it wouldn’t be a life worth living.” Tormund looked tired, now that the rush of the battle was gone. Edd had never seen the raider look so tired. Not even as he sat in the ice cells after the Battle beneath the Wall. 

“ _ Valar morghulis _ .”

“The fuck does that mean?” Jorra the Walrus Woman asked, her grip tightening around her morning star. 

“All men must die, Jorra, daughter of the Great Walrus. And  _ valar dohaeris _ , all men must serve. Sometimes even by dying we serve.” The Red Woman ran her fingers along the scars of Sigorn’s face. The bitch had balls, Edd wouldn’t deny that. “You all have seen the Others. I thought that even in death Mance might serve in the fight against the Others.”

“What’s going to stop me,” the magnar growled as he tore her hands away from his scars, “from making you serve even in death?”

Edd saw Davos gaze at the Red Woman, worry evident across his face. Not the type of worry he had seen when Davos asked to see Jon’s dead body, the type of worry Edd had with Sigorn now. Edd was afraid Sigorn would kill the Red Woman, but Davos was worried the Red Woman would kill Sigorn. 

“Nothing.” The Essossi witch smirked at Sigorn, slipped her hand out of his grasp, and trailed away. 

“There’s something wrong with that woman,” Tormund spit out. 

“You have no idea,” Davos’ rough Flea Bottom accent responded. “Do you wish to see the body?”

The four Free Folk leaders – Dim Dalba had joined during the stand-off between Sigorn and Davos but hadn’t said a word – nodded. “We should get wood for a fire too,” Edd remarked. “I’ll get that started.” 

The Free Folk chiefs and leaders filed into the King’s Tower of Castle Black, to pay their respects to the 998 th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, lead along by the Hand to a former Baratheon King of the Seven Kingdoms. 

_ How about that for a story _ , Edd thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, my Edd is shit, I apologize. I just thought a POV character from the Wall might be useful. Also, Edd is far more of a passive character. I don’t like passive POV characters in GoT, because the coolest part about the show (you know, the one with four seasons?) was that _every_ character felt like they had some sort of backstory or motivation to do what they did when. I’m just struggling a bit to find Edd’s motivation/backstory at this point besides from “avenge Jon”.
> 
> Some things about changes from the show. Some major plotlines are still going to be dropped because I am going to stick to one or two limitations the showrunners had. I’m not going to pretend that I like the decision to drop fAegon or cut Val or mess up the Dorne plot so badly, but I do understand a bit of the reasoning behind those decisions. Regardless of money and time, which I think we all know by the end of the show wasn’t an issue, there’s still the whole audience reactions to deal with. I am not, obviously, writing this so HBO can remake Game of Thrones using my writing. But I am going to accept that adding in fAegon, Val, the Martell Plot, or SuperVillain Euron to Season 6 would have severely confused the audience. Like 6 seasons in and we’re _adding_ and not subtracting? 
> 
> Basically, the showrunners lost their chance to add major players after Season 5, in my opinion. And no, the Sand Snakes or Euron do not count as major players. At least not this version of them. 
> 
> So no fAegon, no Val, no Lady Stoneheart, no “Give Myrcella a throne but then have her be gruesomely transfigured by Darkstar.” Because yeah, the audience of GoT couldn’t really handle that in Season 6. Also there are only the two Tyrell children. I think shoving in Willas and Garlan in Season 6 feels like a bit of a cop-out. Why weren’t they mentioned at all before? We’ve been with the Tyrells since season 2, but now that we need more Tyrells they just appear out of the woodwork? Sorry, not going to happen. (THIS IS NOT CONFIRMING THAT THE LIGHT OF THE SEVEN HAPPENS!)
> 
> Buutttt Myrcella is alive, Barristan is alive, and Arianne exists. Euron has more than just a “big cock” and has magic, but he’s not the world-ender I think he’s going to be in the books.
> 
> Speaking of said books, since I haven’t read them and don’t plan on doing so until either GRRM dies or publishes the last two, that’s one other reason I don’t want to bring in too many characters that I don’t know from the show. There will be book details – like Jon taking hostages, like most of the free folk not coming from Hardhome – but not a whole lot of book characters. Except for Jon. Unless I’m wrong, I should write book!Jon how Season 4!Jon was portrayed? The whole, fuck honor, I’m going to kill Mance under his tent because it needs to happen Jon, right? 
> 
> As for the next few POVs, here’s the next three:
> 
> Jorah, Margaery, and Arya
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed, and happy reading. If you did, please leave a kudo. If you think there’s somethings I can improve upon, please let me know in the comments!

**Author's Note:**

> What do you all think? Comments and suggestions, criticisms and concerns are always welcome!
> 
> _Published: 3/15/21_


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